


Fighting Alliances

by Mandoli



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Gen, referees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 19:44:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandoli/pseuds/Mandoli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Referees don't have a favorite team. That is, of course, until a fight puts alliances in front of fairness... Quick one-shot, done between college courses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fighting Alliances

I felt so upset with myself when I realized what I had done.  
  
As a referee, you don’t have a favorite team. You might have had one when you were younger, but when you’re in the big time, you put your alliances aside. I know of some guys who kick themselves when they remember that they have to be neutral. I’ve worked with many people who’ve felt that way numerous times. It’s a part of the game, folks; either you get with the program, or you get the hell out of Dodge. Simple science.  
  
What does that have to do with my original statement? A lot. In the last game that I officiated, I was working with a senior partner and two rookie linesmen. The two teams that we were there for? It was my favorite team growing up, versus the favorite team that my partner had growing up. If you wanted to talk about a mental conflict, this was it. Remember how I told you that an official has to force himself to become neutral? Well, this was one of those situations. I knew that I had to call this game down the line. Fair. Something told me that I probably wasn’t going to follow my own directions.  
  
The first period was fine. Great. Awesome. Any other words you want me to use in order to describe it? It felt like a normal period of play. There were an average number of whistles blown - many for icing and offsides. The good thing about it was that we didn’t have to call a single penalty; that’s a good thing in the sport. No penalties meant that there weren’t tempers. And if there weren’t tempers, there wouldn’t be any majors. Another good thing.  
  
Then came the second period. And let me tell you something: It. Sucked.  
  
For some reason, things became undone at the proverbial seams. We were whistle happy, and we knew why. Too many penalties. Stupid ones, at that. Hell, I think we even called one for a face-off violation. That was one reason, and that was minor compared to what went down after that…  
  
“Oh, so you want to go? Drop ‘em, then!”  
  
That was the first fight of the night. Two veteran enforcers who really have nothing better to do than stage a fight. I admit that the staged fights shouldn’t even be allowed in the NHL anymore. Even though they agree to go, the results can be tragic. Look at the start of the season. I can’t remember who fought - I didn’t officiate that game - but the guy landed face first onto the ice. Not a pleasant sight. I can see why the General Managers are going to get together to talk about fighting in general.  
  
When the linesmen were bringing the combatants to the penalty boxes after the fight was over, I skated over with my partner to straighten things out. And that’s when things got too crazy. As I was allowing players to change lines for the ensuing face-off, things didn’t seem right. It was as if someone was about to get under someone else’s skin. And I was right in thinking that.  
  
Another voice: “Fuck you, and fuck your goon team.”  
  
The linesmen quickly moved in to control peace with the two players who were now shoving each other. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see two more players dropping their gloves. I had a feeling it wasn’t going to end well. I nodded to my partner, silently suggesting that I  would go and take care of things. I knew the linesmen weren’t able to take care of it, I’d have to take matters into my own hands.  
  
There was my mistake, happening right in front of my eyes. I’m a referee. I wear the orange armbands. I’m not the one who’s supposed to stop fights. But I had to put myself out there; I had to risk my physical well-being in order to stop the two star players who were now beating each other up. I wrapped my arms around one players waist, making sure they knew that I was on the scene. But it seemed like it didn’t matter. They kept punching each other, though I was there trying to separate the players myself.  
  
All of a sudden… _**POP!**_  
  
My head snapped back, and I fell to the ice ass-first. I couldn’t see what happened, but I knew that I had received either someone’s elbow or their fist. That was abuse of officials, but I wasn’t sure just who was at fault for that. Thankfully, the linesmen were able to step in and clear the carnage out before I was stepped on by someone’s skate. My partner rushed in to see if I was okay and started yelling at me.  
  
“You have to call that penalty on the player who hit you,” he said, checking my nose to see if it was broken. Nope. It was fine. “Do you remember who it was?” I shook my head. I wasn’t sure who it was; even if I could tell him, would he have believed me? It went by too quickly…  
  
I stood up, with his assistance. “I think it was the player in white,” I said as my memory got slightly foggy. _I’m not getting concussion symptoms, am I?_  
  
My partner just gave me the face that would win the award for Best Dumbass Look of 2013. I could tell something wasn’t right. The dumbass look turned into one of rage. “It was the man in the yellow jersey! I was watching! It was as clear as day!”  
  
“You’re not positive, and I’m not positive. Both are going in the box, anyway. I still think the guy in white should receive the secondary penalty.”  
  
Yes, it was clear just what was going on. I was favoring my team, and he was doing the exact same thing with his team. We weren’t going to get anywhere if we continued to fight like this. We waved to the linesmen to see if they knew what was going on. Together, they shook their heads. That didn’t work out too well.  
  
My partner and I looked at each other - then the lightbulb in my head turned itself on. I had an idea. “You know something,” I said, looking at everyone almost at once. “Why don’t we give them both the penalty, and let the NHL take a look at the tape? Hell, someone’s going to get suspended for nailing me in the head.”  
  
Everyone looked at me like I was on some sort of trip. Then they all nodded.  
  
I made the motion to let both fighters out of the penalty box so that they could head for the locker room. The crowd didn’t know whether to cheer or boo, until they heard the penalties… Then they booed.  
  
\-------------------------------------------------  
  
A day later, the league announced who was getting a hearing based on the hit in the head. I didn’t realize that it was the player on my favorite team that did it. I was a little embarrassed about myself, and a little down in the dumps. I had made a mistake, and I was going to get my ass chewed out about it.  
  
And that was life as a referee.


End file.
